Beforehand
by Sonowa
Summary: A series of one-shots about the campers before they met. Number three: One thing in common unnoticed by all, can be solved in an instant. Rather short story, mind you.
1. Lack of Practice

**I don't own Total Drama Island, or any of its characters or places. And no, "lol-king" does not exist… to my knowledge.**

Lack of Practice

"Oy! Boy! I asked for a frappuchino, idiot! This is a caffeine-free latte!"

"Fine, then. I'll get it on it."

The man walked back to his small booth in the Starbucks. No matter where one went, you'd find one.

Such was the case for this job-seeker.

Turning his head from the man who demanded a different variety of odd coffee-milk-cream-things, Noah rolled his eyes and muttered a "when this chain flops" underneath his breath.

Not like he really WANTED to work at this filth-ridden dump, anyways. He was on top of the world. President of student council, straight A's, and he's just beaten that blasted "lol-king," high-score holder from his resident town, in Space Invaders. Of course, such things did not pay.

So he settled in a place where you could be cynical, and get a wage.

Paradise, in Noah's words.

The clanging of the entrance door's bell attached by a manager during a sprucing-up dangled. Shortly afterwards, a teenager entered. Noah looked up from the book he managed to sneak into the café.

The know-it-all eyed him. Black hair, camo clothing, relaxed eyes… it's a musician, all right.

The newcomer walked to the front of the ordering center. Noah forced a look of slight interest onto his face.

"Welcome to Starbucks. May I help you?"

The black-haired teen just smiled, and shook his head. "No, I'm just traveling around here. I'd really appreciate a map of this town. Doesn't seem to be any lying around these parts, so I figured I'd give this place a shot."

Noah's face reverted to it's cynical self. "We don't carry maps. If you needed a map, you could've checked at a gas station before traveling. Typical," he sighed, then went back to his so-called work.

"Now c'mon, man. Take it easy, it's not that big a deal. Could I at least get some water? Gets kinda hot…" the guy shrugged, still grinning.

Noah sighed, then got a paper cup from the dispenser. After filling the container with water, he handed it to him. "There ya go. Water's free, mind you, so you've managed to sneak out of paying."

The camo-wearer took a seat at a stool nearby the table. "So… what's your name? It's not often I meet people in other cities that actually give a damn what I care."

Noah turned to the musician. "Names don't matter when you know you'll never meet up with anyone again."

The musician frowned. "Whoa, pessimistic much, dude? You've really gotta learn to relax a bit. Let me help ya."

With that, he pulled out a guitar case Noah somehow missed when the stranger entered. He opened it, and pulled out an acoustic guitar. He strummed a few chords, adjusting his fingering and strings.

He started to strum, nothing special or recognizable, just improvisation. Noah watched, unimpressed. It sure wasn't anything to gawk at. He did, however, catch the logo on his guitar. The label stated "Trent" on it.

Still playing, crowds of customers wandered over to watch the musician at his work. They cheered, handing over various coins and bills as thanks.

He played one last chord. The crown cheered, and the went back to their seats, talking of what they just heard.

"Whaddya think? Pretty good, huh?"

Noah, once again into his book, looked up and glanced at Trent. "Can't say I'm impressed. I've heard my gold lab bark better tunes when begging for ribs."

Trent shrugged, placed his guitar in his case, and left holding the water. Cries of farewell reverberated around the café from the listeners to his playing.

Noah didn't get it. A nobody can do something in tone day, and he becomes famous.

On the other hand, you practice and perfect talents, and you work at a chain of coffee shops.

Noah hated karma ever since that happened.


	2. Us Versus Them

**I STILL don't own Total Drama Island, or any of its characters. What's it take, huh?**

Us Versus Them

There are only two things about the other side of those train tracks.

Number one, on your side, you're safe.

Number two, if you cross, you are dead.

Of course, such things don't always work. In this case, not for local geek Harold.

He didn't know of what "side" one is on, or where the "homies" and the "tripping" meet. Heck, they're just rapper buzzwords; it means nothing!

And yet, on a morning constitutional, a first from the geek, Harold crossed to the other side of the tracks. He was tired of the same sights on his walks, so curiosity did its business, and he crossed.

The buildings on that side, if you could call them buildings, were broken down and outdated. More of a war zone then a town, Harold muttered to himself, viewing the insanity as his pace quickened slightly.

"Oh no, you did NOT just say that, turkey! Better watch your back, because next time I see you, I'll be having Thanksgiving early!"

"Ah! Please don't hurt me!"

Turning left, Harold viewed another nerd run to the other side of the town, many injuries visible on his body, alongside many tears in his clothes.

A massive stomp to the geek's front made his eyebrows rise towards his brown-orange hair. In front of him was a large girl, around sixteen years of age, several smaller females following her.

"And who might you be, string bean? Looks like you'll be next if you are gonna mess with my girls!"

Outbursts of "yeah!" or "go get 'em, Leshawna!" rang like a choir from the smaller girls.

"Um… who might you be?" Harold asked timidly, his legs slowly bending downwards.

"Who am I? You must not be from this side of the tracks, string bean. Don't you know the rules?" the woman asked, hands on the sides of her apple-studded shirt.

Harold said nothing. Leshawna groaned and slapped her face.

"Skinny, let me show you the rules!"

Leshawna ran forward, grabbing Harold by his shirt collar and lifting him slightly into the air.

"You stay on YOUR side, and OUR side won't hurt you! Break the rules, and I will personally rip you apart like the little string bean that you are!"

Harold nodded slightly, attempting to resist the urge to let his eyes head to other places on her body.

Leshawna threw him down, a "gosh!" let loose from Harold, rubbing his back.

"Now, I admire your guts, string bean, so I'll let you off easy now."

Harold grinned a bit, staring at the large woman. "Oh, I get it. You're like the bodyguard for those girls, right? That's why these sides are divided; for protection." He stood up, slightly cringing from the injury on his back.

Leshawna rose an eyebrow, but then had a slightly calm look on her face. "I'm impressed. You're the first from that side to even notice my protecting my girls here. Maybe you'd like to stay here awhile?"

Now it was Harold's turn to raise his eyebrows. His heart pumped, but like Harold, it had problems. He grasped onto the burger design on his shirt, gasping. "Oh God, I hate these heart palpitations!"

Turning around, both arms grasping a side of his stick-thin figure, he half-limped to the other side of the small suburb. "Gosh! Why do these always happen at the wrong time!"

One of the smaller pulled on the side of Leshawna's shirt.

"Leshawna, why didn't you beat him up?"

Leshawna smiled, and placed a hand on the girl's head. "Sister, I've learned that not all people from that side are haters. Who knows, we might meet again."


	3. Swap Meet

**I do not own Total Drama Island, or any of its characters. I really should be checking eBay for those rights.**

Swap Meet

Geoff mumbled something inaudible under his breath. The greatest hat in the universe was there one day… and now it wasn't.

His pink vest did not compliment the hat he bought in its place; a white skull cap, bouncing off the top of his large, party-powered hair. Unfortunately, the only one still left in the stupid hat store.

He loved the former hat; a pink cowboy hat, perfect for the guy who just wants that little extra boost of crazy in those parties. And the fact that it complimented his vest and fit great on his hair? Bonus points for him.

But now, it was gone. And all he could do was stroll sulkingly along the block.

0000

DJ sighed as he viewed the bobber on the top of his newly-bought toque slowly "frolic" from side to side in the autumn breeze. He could've sworn a nice skull cap was in the store the last day he was there. Where was it now?

The toque wasn't much of a consolation prize. It's sea-green colors looked rather sickening on the gentle giant's head. That, and it was overboard by a lot; the skull cap would've just covered his hair and give him a little warmth.

Isn't that all a hat really needed to do?

DJ sighed as he turned the corner on his walk, attempting to make the hat grow on him.

0000

Ezekiel grumbled, a few "ehs" coming from his downward-tilted head. The cowboy hat had no part in making the homeshooled look any better.

He managed to scrounge up all of the spare change he found outside his non-rural home immediately after seeing the toque. And yet, one day later, the only thing remaining was that cowboy hat.

His hands in his sweater-vest, Ezekiel turned around the block.

Immediately, all three men stopped. Ezekiel stared at the top of DJ's head, DJ on Geoff's, and Geoff's on Ezekiel's. Only one thing was heard from all three.

"Trade ya."


End file.
